


Coffee

by BuckysMyBoy



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Accidental Identity Reveal, Angst, Awkward Bucky Barnes, Blood, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Coffee, Dialogue Heavy, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Identity Reveal, Implied/Referenced Torture, Injury, Nightmares, Past Torture, Peter Parker is Bad at Lying, Spider-Man Identity Reveal, Stab Wound, Stitches, random conversation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-05-16 00:14:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19306732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckysMyBoy/pseuds/BuckysMyBoy
Summary: instead of working on my other fic, i'm doing this :)thanks tolittlebutterflyexplores42for the idea of this





	Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> instead of working on my other fic, i'm doing this :)
> 
> thanks to [littlebutterflyexplores42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlebutterflyexplores42/pseuds/littlebutterflyexplores42) for the idea of this

Bucky was sat up on the counter. He was sitting crossed legged, still in pajamas, navy blue sweats and white Mickey Mouse tshirt - the shirt was oversized since it was Steve's and since Steve's clothes were apparently big on him now - and drinking coffee. The coffee probably wasn't a good idea at this time of the night with all the creamer and sugar he liked to dump in it, it was a pale milky color instead of black. He already couldn't sleep as is, too many flashes of nightmares lingering every time he so much as shut his eyes for more than two seconds. He couldn't remember much from them but - when could he remember much of anything? - they were still startling him awake every time. He couldn't have slept for more than an hour tonight, and it was already around...

"FRIDAY, what time is it?" He asked, seemingly unaware of anything else that was going on around him. Not much at this hour but his Hydra training seemed to be lost to him.

"Three twenty-nine am." That accented voice from the ceiling told him precisely, the million answers to the million possible questions he could ask always there.

"Thanks," he spared a glance at the ceiling, even though Tony had told him multiple times that there was nothing up there except paint. 

_"Then where does FRIDAY'S voice come from?" He had challenged._

_All Tony had said was: "Not there."_

He took another sip of his coffee, drinking it all too fast and probably felt it burn as it went down. If it hurt, he didn't react to it. He sat there stone faced and unblinking. Too many lurking thoughts to notice that the coffee was in fact was steaming hot and burned when he swallowed. That, or he just didn't care. It was too hard to tell, maybe not all his Hydra training had abandoned him after all. It was all just sitting in the back of his mind, waiting for the right words to all come rushing forward in an overwhelming manner. At this point, everyone had seen documents or even videos of some of the small things that happened to him at Hydra. They all knew he wouldn't be able to fight it if it happened and with Steve away on a "impornat, classified" mission, no one knew what exactly would happen if he was triggered. 

He didn't seem to want to find out either, he steered clear of everyone. At least until he was better, he told himself. He knew there really was no way to really get better but it made Steve feel better. To know that the only reason Bucky wouldn't talk to anyone was because he was afraid to hurt them. Steve had tried multiple times to convince him that it would be fine but he just found more and more ways to make excuses for himself. 

It's not that he was excluding himself, he just wanted to keep Steve's friends safe. He knew that he was already pushing it, staying in the Avengers tower while he attempted to heal. He knew there was no healing, what Hydra had in his head was meant to stay. It was meant to override every single individual thought and feeling he had. All he was supposed to know was orders, thoughts and feelings were chaos. He didn't work well in chaos. 

Right now proved that, here he was, sitting on the counter and letting himself fall into thoughts. He found it pathetic, even after all that torture and training he... would still be imperfect - in need of more training. Steve would say it didn't matter what Hydra thought of him now. Bucky knew even being able to get lost in thought like that was a privilege. He remembers what it felt like to not be able to think, to not have any idea who he was or why anything was so there was no reason for him to need to make a decision for himself. Bucky took a moment to smirk to himself, Hydra would be disappointed in him now. He had his own thoughts and was able to use them to actively make decisions for himself. 

Then, like all things, the smirk went away. Those thoughts could still so easily be taken away from him. He knew just ten words and those thoughts would be forgotten in favor of seventy years of training. He finds it almost funny that he's spend more time of his life without actual thought. It was a strange thing to think - but he could do that now. 

He took another sip of his coffee. Before he hadn't taken notice that it was burning hot, but now he took notice that it was cold. Maybe because it left a cold feeling in his chest because the burning coffee had been keeping him warm in the cold room. The cold brought up too many memories. He blinked a few times and looked around. The kitchen was still dark, so was the living room and hallway he could see. The only reason he could see in here is because his enhanced eyesight. He thinks to a normal person it would be pitch black, even with time from their eyes to adjust. In the hallway he could see everyone's lights off and took a moment to be glad that everyone else is getting at least some sleep tonight. Minus Steve and Natasha, who were on a mission right now. He knew Steve would tell him about it when he got back. He knew that would be a while though, Steve had texted him at one am on the first night of his mission that it would be a long one. He had replied with a few other things but hadn't got an answer back. Natasha had answered a few more times than Steve had, and he knew that if something happened to Steve - if she was allowed to or not - she would tell him right away. There was no reason for him to be worried about Steve but he would be lying if he said it wasn't one of the many things that kept him up at night. 

The elevator dinged and he was completely ready in less than a second to throw his coffee cup at someone's head and run for a weapon. 

"Sergeant Barnes, do you know how to give someone medical attention?" FRIDAY asked, voice sounding rushed.

"Uh..." He took a moment to let his heart rate to go down and take his fight or flight response. He knew FRIDAY wouldn't be asking him to give medical attention to someone out to hurt anyone in here. "Yeah. Yes, I can." 

"Thank you, I would wake sir but he rarely sleeps and you were awake so -"

"I get it FRIDAY, who is it?" 

"It is one of sir's interns. He was walking home late and that's never a good idea in New York."

"What happened?" 

"He will be up in a few seconds. I recommend to go grab the first aid kit in the bottom left drawer." 

Bucky was already sliding off the counter, catching the mug before it fell when he clumsily place it. The elevator opened and he already had the first aid kit out and was rushing over to help whoever came though the elevator. 

"Lights, FRIDAY."

- 

Peter changed in the elevator. FRIDAY had let him in immediately, instructing him to get in the elevator so she could get him help. He had walked as steadily as he could to the elevator and then leaned against the wall of it once it closed. 

"Mr. Parker, sir just fell asleep, however, Sergeant Barnes is up at the moment. I can ask him to help you instead of sir if you wouldn't mind so sir could stay asleep. But if you would rather me wake -"

"Who's Sergeant Barnes?" 

"A good friend of Captain Rogers'." 

"Is he trustworthy?" 

"From what I have observed, yes."

"He's fine then.. but don't tell him I'm Spider-Man." 

"What would you like me to tell him?" 

"That... uh, I'm one of Mr. Stark's interns and I... uh... got mugged on my way out. That sounds believable, right?" 

"I'll make it sound believable," FRIDAY informed him, with all this talking, he was feeling light headed.

"Unless you want to reveal yourself as Spider-Man, then I suggest that you change out if your suit."

"I..." Peter had no clue how he was supposed to get this off with two stab wounds but he did it anyways. He knew FRIDAY stopped the elevator so he could wiggle painfully back into his clothes. He could feel blood soaking through his school shirt but he didn't need anyone to know he was Spider-Man. He had his reasons.

He stumbled into the dark of the common room, feeling around for the couch so he could fall over. His head was already a little fuzzy. 

He felt an arm around his shoulders, guiding him to the couch. "Lights, FRIDAY." The voice right next to his ear was demanding. He was pound but somehow timid sounding, knew exactly what he was doing but still second guessed himself. Peter laughed at the thought, this guy was supposed to be a Sergeant. He had been in the army, surely that had given him some confidence.

Peter felt himself being set gently down on the couch. The guy wasted no time, obviously seeing all the blood. "Can you lift your arms up, kid?" 

Peter hated that, hated being called kid. He was fifteen years old, almost sixteen. He could almost drive for Christ's sake. He was Spider- _Man_. Not... not Spider-Kid or Spider-Boy. He could take care of himself. 

He almost voiced that to Sergeant Barnes - and that name sounded so familiar but he just was too foggy minded to remember who exactly he was - but he had that soft tone in his voice that sounded like he was willing to help Peter though anything. So, Peter kept his mouth shut. 

Peter lifted his arms up as much as he could, curling in on instinct when it caused tension on the still bleeding wounds. 

"Damn, kid, some muggers, huh?" Sergeant Barnes had this ring in his voice that sounded like he could see right though Peter. 

"Wha - oh, yeah." 

Sergeant Barnes pulled a blanket off the back of the couch, then pushed Peter to lay down on top of it. Peter only later realized it was to keep blood off the couch that was still actively soaking though his shirt off the couch. The flow had definitely lessened since he got here, advantages of super healing. He still needed someone to help him close the wounds so he didn't bleed out in his sleep or something crazy like that. He wasn't stupid. 

Sergeant Barnes looked up at him with pity in his eyes, then muttered something under his breath about Dr. Banner. Peter knew Dr. Banner was MIA right now but he couldn't help but wonder if Dr. Banner was actually here. 

He thinks he mumbled out a question, but he doesn't really know what he asked. Sergeant Barnes still answered, "Oh, sorry kid. You're stuck with me patching you up, Dr. Banner isn't here. I was just sayin' that he should be the one to do this." 

Sergeant Barnes rambled on, as if he was nervous but whatever he was talking about helped Peter stay conscious. Something to try and focus on. 

"This is going to sting." The Sergeant warned, during the process of what he was doing but it started stinging before his warning was over. Peter wondered if part of it was in his head. 

"You ever got stitches before, kid?" 

"Many times." Peter told him, looking up at the ceiling and trying to focus in Sergeant Barnes' voice. 

"Good." Peter could already feel him start the stitches on the wound on his stomach, right under his ribs. That one was worse than the- by comparison - smaller wound by his hip. "I don't know the last you got stitches, but I'm sure you remember that they hurt a bit. Last time I got stitches was... was... uh..." Sergeant Barnes was quiet for a moment. "I don't actually remember but I remember getting them. I was afraid of needles so it was no fun... but, I don't actually remember." 

The statement - with the strange way it was worded - would have confused Peter if he wasn't this close to passing out from pain.

"I remember the last time I gave stitches, though, let's just say... Steve Rogers is an idiot. I had to give him stitches just last week because he thought it would be a good idea to run head first into battle with... well, that's classified. But he got a giant gash on his forehead, we finished up everything and he was still bleeding after an hour or so. Had to give him stitches right there on the battlefield so that dumbass didn't pass out on the way home." 

Sergeant Barnes continued with stories for a while but suddenly cut himself off. 

"Can you keep your eyes open for me kid?" Peter blinked open eyes that he hadn't even realized were shut. "I'm almost done. I don't think the other one will need stitches." 

Peter tried to blink the pain out of his eyes, the stitches weren't even that bad, they didn't usually hurt so much. However, he had to finish his fight after getting stabbed the first time, then he had to swing from Queens to the tower. He knew his injuries were just over worked and... not that he would ever admit this out loud but so was he. He'd be fine my morning at least, by the end of tomorrow night at worst.

"Can you tell me the color of the ceiling?" Sergeant Barnes asked, almost done with the last few stitches. 

"What does that hav... have to do with anything?" 

"Humor me." 

"It's white, boring." 

"Mm, how 'bout the carpet?"

"Uh," Peter tried to crane his neck without moving too much of the rest of his body. "Tan, even more boring."

The 'what color' questions continued for a few more minutes while Sergeant Barnes finished the stitches and wrapped them with bandages. Then he wrapped the other wound. 

"Good as new," Sergeant Barnes said, pulling the blue one use gloves he had been wearing off. 

"Woah." Peter said, staring at Bucky's left hand. And the Sergeant blushed, and angled his arm away from Peter as he got up to dispose of everything.

"You have a metal arm?" Peter asked, excitement evident in his tired voice. He stared but it was a different stare than Bucky was used to. He was use to those pity stares, Peter's stare only held wonder. He didn't want to know how Bucky lost his arm, he wanted to know where the metal one came from. "That is awesome dude." 

Sergeant Barnes looked at him with confusion. At first it was confusion at why anyone would think his arm was cool. It brought so much death, so much hurt to others. There wasn't anything cool about it but here was this kid, staring at it as if it was the most amazing thing he's ever seen. Then it was confusion at why the kid's statement seemed to fit with the kid's voice in his head. 

"Have we met before?" 

"Um," Peter tried to think back to where he's seen Sergeant Barnes' face before. He knew his mistake right away. He knew who Sergeant Barnes was now. Now that he could see his face in the light and now that he saw the arm. Two and two went together in his head. "No, I think I would remember you." He lied, he hadn't remembered until now. "You're Captain America's best friend." He should have connected it a lot sooner. The name, who he was friends with, the fact that he had access to the common floor, his voice, his face, his arm. Everything about him had been familiar but he blames the pain for the reason he couldn't connect the dots fast enough. 

He fought Sergeant Barnes - The Winter Soldier - in Germany. That's not what he was really worried about. He hadn't known what that fight was really about and he didn't think that Sergeant Barnes was really one to hold a grudge - of course he was still worried about that possibly. The thing that was the biggest problem was that he had said the exact same thing about his arm while they were fighting. And he had been Spider-Man suit at the time so...

He didn't want any of the avengers to know he was Spider-Man. He couldn't live up to them. He was better off being known as Mr. Stark's intern. 

"Are you sure?" He asked, standing in the kitchen now, drinking coffee that had to be cold. He made a face at it and dumped the little bit he had left down the sink. Peter heard the coffee maker start to brew another pot. 

"I'm very sure."

Sergeant Banres gave an unbelieving hum. "So.. if you don't mind me asking, what were you really wearing when you got stabbed?" Peter thinks that meant he knew. If his side didn't hurt so much still, he'd be leaving that room right now so he could stop digging himself into a hole. 

"My -" he made a gesture to where his bloodied shirt sat in the floor, "my school shirt." 

"So you got stabbed under your shirt?" Sergeant Barnes asked. 

"What... what do you mean?" 

"You're shirt wasn't ripped." 

"So?" 

Sergeant Barnes just laughed and shook his head. "You drink coffee, kid?" 

"I... only once before, I didn't like it." 

"How old are you? Sixteen... seventeen?" 

Peter's turn to blush, "I'm fifteen but I'll be sixteen in August." 

Sergeant Barnes laughed. ""You want coffee, kid?"

"The coffee I had was disgusting." 

He just shook his head, reaching for a second cup and filling them both with black coffee. "Did you put any sugar?" 

Peter blinked a few times, "No." 

Sergeant Barnes didn't say anything more but Peter heard the sound of sugar pouring and a spoon clinking against glass. 

- 

Peter stared hard at the metal hand that handed the mug to him. He watches as the plates in the fingers shifted to release the handle once he had got a hold of it. 

He had so many questions. 

"Sergeant Barnes.." he said softly, bringing his feet up onto the couch and leaning a bit closer to the man. He cringed into the sip of coffee he was taking and of course Peter already found a way to mess up.  

"Don't call me that... I..." He frowned, "I'm not a Sergeant anymore, kid." 

"Sure you are... but if you'd rather me call you Mr. Barnes I can. Or I can call you -" 

"Bucky." 

"Huh?" 

"You can call me Bucky." 

"But... we don't know each other like that." 

"Like what?" 

"Like... friends. And you're an Avenger, I can't just call you by your first name, it's -"

"Okay then, tell me about yourself, Peter." 

"Uh..." He usually has so much to say, could run his mouth for hours. It was like this when he met all the other Avengers too. His brain just shut down. The other Avengers hadn't even really tried conversation like this. Mr. Barnes seemed to want to know who he was but that could just be him trying to be nice. He knew that it probably wasn't the best idea to leave a stranger - that just got stabbed - alone on the common floor. He was just talking to Peter out of obligation but that's how it always felt when people talked to him. No one really wanted to start a conversation with the chatterbox kid. 

"Okay then..." He could see the faint blush on Mr. Barnes' cheeks and could see the way he was angling himself away from Peter. He wasn't making direct eye contact either, he was staring at something over Peter's shoulder. Peter could feel the nervous energy around both of them, maybe he had been rubbing off on Mr. Barnes. He hadn't meant to make him uneasy. "That's alright. I don't like to talk about myself either..." there was an awkward stretch of silence. "I don't want your whole life story, kid. Just... I don't know, what's your favorite movie?" 

"Star Wars." 

"Haven't seen 'em." 

"What..." Peter muttered, then louder, "whadda you mean, you haven't seen them?" 

Mr. Barnes furrowed his eyebrows, "I..." 

"Oh, right. Sorry, you were born back in the olden days." 

"Excuse me." He had his eyebrows lifted but there was a laughing tune in his voice, "I'll have you know, I'm only twenty... nin - no. Thirty." 

"You're actually ninety-nine." 

"Okay, Mr. Mathematician. Not everyone goes to fancy schools." 

"How do you know I go to a fancy school?" 

"I mean... when I was a kid, any school was fancy." 

"What?" 

"You had to pay to go to school." 

"Oh yeah... The Depression." 

"Yeah." 

"Did you finish school?" 

"No one finished school. I dropped out when I was fifteen." 

Peter stared with wide eyes, it never occurred to him that the man next to him grew up in an event that they only learn about in school. He knew that, of course but knowing that the famous Howling Commando Bucky Barnes grew up in the twenties was different than actually realizing that he lived his entire childhood there. He isn't just some person Peter read about in the history books in the third grade and took a test on. He had a life and childhood memories just like Peter had. It was shocking to realize that Mr. Barnes had been a normal person before. 

"Do you have any stories from when you were a kid?" Peter looked over at him with curiosity now. He wanted to know more about what you can't read in a textbook. 

The blush was back on Mr. Barnes's face. "I, uh... look kid, I don't know how much they teach you in school about me or how much you know about me but... Hydra..." He just sighed, leaning himself back into the couch, it was meant to disguise him curling in on himself but Peter was him cower. Great, he struck another nerve. He thinks it's time for him to stop talking, but when does he ever know when to stop?

"I'm sorry. How about... I can tell you about my science project. You'll probably find it boring but I can -"

"You ramble a lot. You sure you don't drink coffee?" 

"No." 

"Have you tried it yet?" He gestured to the cup in Peter's hands, one clutching tight to the handle as if he's never held a mug before and the other curled protectively around the glass like he was going to drop it.

Peter glanced into the cup, it was a lighter color then it had been when he tried it the first time. It looked like there was milk mixed in. He blinked at it a few times, then tipped his head back to take a sip. It was just a drink, no need to overthink.

He found that he actually liked it. It had a sweet after taste too, not bitter like the coffee he tried before. He understood now why adults always drink coffee. 

Then he took a moment to think, adults drink coffee in the morning. While Peter was sure it was technically morning, "Mr. Barnes wh -"

"Bucky." 

"Mr. Bucky, why are you drinking coffee at three am?" 

"Uh..."

"Why were you even awake?" 

"Kid, I -" Bucky stopped talking and took a sip of coffee, sounding embarrassed.

"Sorry." 

"About?"

"I don't know."

There was another beat of silence. Nightmares." He said quietly, then quickly added, "Why were you leaving the tower at three?" 

"Coffee isn't good for nightmares." Peter shifted on the couch to face Bucky more, wincing when he felt it in the still fresh wounds. 

"I wasn't planning on going back to sleep." 

"Oh." 

"Yeah, I don't need much sleep anyways," Hydra only let him sleep when his body was close to shut down. "Now answer my question. Why were you leaving here so late?" 

"Early."

"Whatever," Bucky chuckled.

"I was just caught up in work, then I saw the time and went to go home cause if I wasn't there in the morning my aunt would be worried." 

"And then you go stabbed?" Bucky said, raising an eyebrow, and Peter felt like he was being interrogated by a knowing parent. 

"Twice." 

"By muggers." Somehow it was a question and a statement.

"Yes." 

"And you didn't call the cops?" 

Peter opened and closed his mouth a few times. "I didn't wanna."

Bucky hummed but didn't press.

"How about you text your aunt and tell her that you are staying here. Would she be okay with that?"

"Uh... y- yeah." Wouldn't normal adults be pressing Peter to call the cops or tell her aunt that he got stabbed? Twice. 

Bucky just laughed as if he did know it all. He reached over with his human arm and slapped Peter's shoulder. 

"Man, what -"

" _Woah, you have a metal arm? That is awesome dude_." Bucky mocked, cheeks flushed a but pink from laughter. He pointed to Peter's backpack. It was open completely, Spider-Man suit only half way shoved inside. 

"I -"

"Kid, it's fine. I won't tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about. Well, I might tell Steve, if that's okay with y -"

"No," Peter said a bit too loud, since he knew the other Avengers slept up here. "Mr. Sergeant Barnes please don't."

"I won't, kid. Don't panic, I won't." 

"Sorry." 

"About what? Call me everything I told you not to?"

"No -"

" 'Cause that's the only thing you have to be sorry for." Bucky knew how to handle panic like that - borderline anxiety attack, he thinks - Steve gets like that a lot too. Peter wasn't breathing funny or flailing around but his voice was so scared. 

"No, Mr. Barnes, that I yelled." 

Mr. Barnes said nothing, just kept staring forward. He blinked a few times and took a sip of his coffee. Peter stared at him when he still didn't say anything. "Mr. B -"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Were you talking to me?"

"Yes -" 

" 'Cause my name is Bucky."

"Mr. Bu -"

"Bucky." 

"I'm sorry I yelled, Bucky, just please don't tell Captain America that I'm... just fifteen year old kid."

"Why?" 

" I don't... don't wanna disappoint, you know?" Peter thinks it's bedtime, he isn't even this honest with people he knows. 

"I think it's cool." 

"What?" 

"I mean, you're only fifteen and already.. all this? I think it's cool."

"You don't think I'm too young? That it's too dangerous?" 

"Please, kid, I had a pocket knife when I was like nine. I used it all the time."

"You're parents let a nine year old have a knife?" Peter sounded concerned.

Bucky only laughed, "No, I stole it." 

"Oh my god." Peter was laughing too now. He wasn't going to bring up the fact that Bucky had said he didn't remember much of his childhood. Peter was interested in any story he could get. "You just... stabbed people?" 

"No, I threatened mostly. Got into lots of fist fights... Well, Steve did. It was mostly for if we were outnumbered. One time I did throw it at Tommy Smith. Got in lots of trouble." 

"Wow." 

"Yeah, crazy childhood, huh?"

"Yup." 

If they talked until the sun came up, then that wasn't important. Peter ended up falling asleep before anyone woke up, he eventually slumped against Bucky's shoulder. 

Tony woke up at around six, coming out of his room sleepy eyed for a cup of coffee. And there was Peter Parker, his shirt off with stitches on his stomach, curled against an ex- assassin's side. "The hell happened?" Tony asked.

"He got 'mugged'." Bucky told him. using air quotes, then pointed to the Spider-Man suit hanging out of the backpack. "He's a bad liar. I don't know how the whole world hasn't figured it out yet." 

Tony just sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Did he pass out?" 

"No, fell asleep." 

"Is he okay, FRIDAY?"

"Yes sir, vitals are normal and breathing is fine." 

"You better not tell anyone."

"Who me?" Bucky asked, eyebrows raising.

"I'm not joking."

"Aren't you always?" 

"Funny, aren't you, Barnes?" 

"I like to think so." He said as Tony shuffled out of the kitchen. "Hey, Tony, how about you fill my coffee back up?" 

"No." Tony sounded offended.

"I thought you wanted his secret kept." Bucky said, but he was laughing. Tony grumbled something, even though he knew Bucky wouldn't out Peter over a cup of coffee. 

"You are so immature." He informed the other as if he didn't already know when he picked up Bucky's empty mug. 

"As if you're any better." 

He set it back down once he had refilled it, he put it down next to Peter's half finished one. "Did you give him coffee?" 

"Uh.. That's not important." 

"I can't believe you."

"I could have given him alcohol." 

"Haha. You know, if you did, you would have been dead." 

Bucky smiled, reaching over to grab his coffee cup, taking a sip of the hot liquid. He noticed that it burned this time.

"Too hot, Barnes?" Tony teased, over exaggerating blowing into his coffee mug before he took a sip. 

Bucky rolled his eyes, letting it fall into a comfortable silence as Tony laughed to himself and the kid kept sleeping on his shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> feedback and comments are appreciated


End file.
